Haleakala

Robert CrossTribune staff reporter

HALEAKALA NATIONAL PARK, Maui, Hawaii-- What can you say about a volcano that died?

Actually, if the topic is THIS volcano, discussions of its demise are premature. Maui has been inching away from the hot spot that still lights up the Big Island, but no one knows for sure if seething magma tendrils lurk inside the cone, just waiting for an opening. The official term for the state of Haleakala volcano's sentience is "dormant," as opposed to dead or extinct.

In fact, the people who take care of this park worry most about the extinction of certain rare plants and animals. So they protect them with zeal.

People arrive by the hundreds of thousands every year to visit the 10,000-foot summit and gaze across the moonscape of a crater that, to most eyes, appears both mystical and indestructible. During sunrise -- Haleakala means "House of the Sun" -- chill winds whistle a haunting refrain as light plays over a basin of clouds and the cinder cones within suddenly turn pink.

Some visitors are inspired to walk into or even across the 19-square-mile basin. There are trails for this, and hikers must never stray from those trails.

Chief Ranger Karen Ardoin sounds a warning: "Silversword is a federally listed threatened species. Their shallow root systems can be cut by people trampling on the cinder near them."

But that's only the beginning. "We have more than 40 species of endangered insects that live above 8,000 feet, and some of them are flightless," Ardoin said. "Many of those insects are associated with the endemic plants and are required pollinators, so if we were to lose the insects, we would, over time, lose the plant species as well."

Of course, the island of Maui draws millions of vacationers, and the operators of various tours sell Haleakala National Park as one of its major diversions. Privately, some of those operators complain about the stringent rules and the unbending officers who enforce them. The fines can be stiff; banishment is an option.

"I know many (parks) encourage you to be a little bit more spontaneous," Ardoin said. "We're not able to do that.

"Our biggest need is for people to understand that the area is fragile. It could be likened to the arid Southwest, but you must add to that the fact that all the species adapted here basically without any land mammals around, without any trampling or browsing behavior. People need to love the area gently.

"Right up near the visitor center at the summit area, for example, you could go 20 feet from the railing and be at the opening of a burrow of a sea bird, the endangered `ua`u. They burrow up to five feet deep into the cinder. It has to be stabilized enough with rocks that it doesn't slide away. They use the same burrow year after year, so it's real important people don't trample those areas."

I asked Ardoin why a sea bird would choose to live 10,000 feet above the sea. "That is their habitat," she said. "It's the way God made 'em," she said. "They go out to sea for fish, for food, but they have just adapted to the high elevation. They don't carry the fish back to the burrow. They feed the young by regurgitation. They've got to be pretty strong to fly up and back with a full load and disengorge it and fly back to sea again. It's a rigorous lifestyle."

Hawaii's state bird is the nene goose, which can sometimes be spotted in Haleakala. There may be some slight relation to Canada geese, but nene geese continue to struggle for survival, not having adapted to the predatory mammals that humans introduced. to the islands. That may be why the birds and insects choose higher elevations, where enemies would rather not go.

People, of course, go everywhere, so they must be careful not to become predators in areas where species hang by a thread. They must stick to the trails and the 38-mile roadway that leads to the summit. They also must tread carefully in the rain forest portion of the park, the area called Kipahulu.

Adoin and I talked for quite a while, and we broke off our conversation before I realized we hadn't discussed the volcanic nature of this parkland. Other sources informed me that Haleakala has not erupted since 1790 or thereabouts. No one is exactly sure because Maui chroniclers had other things on their minds. That was at a time when islanders were preoccupied with mass destruction wrought by merchant sailors and the bloody conquests of King Kamehameha, who was in the process of uniting all the islands into one big kingdom -- his.

Even without fresh lava, visitors still enjoy the park in a lot of ways. One of the most popular activities involves riding in a van to the top and coasting down on a bike.

I joined a tour run by Maui Downhill, which begins picking people up at beachside hotels at 3 a.m., so they can experience dawn at the summit. We enjoyed the sunrise and then listened to a long safety lecture given by Ted Hall, a droll man who came to Hawaii for the surfboarding and stays afloat with tourist dollars. Rick Parkinson, driver of the blue van, would bring up the rear, towing a trailer holding spare bikes. Hall told us we would coast downhill at about 20 m.p.h., our eyes on the road, our hands near the brakes. No need to look back, because Rick and the van would hold off traffic. Now and then we would stop and let the cars pass.

Hall dutifully reminded everyone to keep on roads and trails to protect the plants and wildlife. He cautioned us that it's illegal to keep any rocks and also unlucky. "It's the curse of Madam Pele, the fire goddess," he explained. "People occasionally end up mailing the rocks back, and their letters include some pretty sad stories of people losing their jobs, pets dying, spouses leaving . . . spouses returning. You may have seen that `Brady Bunch' episode several years ago when Greg took that Tiki god and got knocked in the head with a surfboard. . . ."

Hall had one final briefing item ."The ranger here at the visitor center claims that the mountain erupts, on the average, every 200 years. So we are overdue.

"If today is the day for a volcanic eruption during the bicycle ride, there will be two warning signs. No. 1 is a puff of black smoke. That will be from my rear bike tire. I'll be heading down the mountain at top speed. No. 2 is what they call the `blue flash.' That will be Rick passing the group with the van.

"At that point, the safety rules are out the window. It'll be everybody for themselves. You can keep the bicycle, and we'll see you at the airport if you make it that far."

Naturally, we all laughed. A few of us shook our heads and looked bemused. Haleakala does indeed harbor some strange birds.